


guardian

by brorotica



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:25:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brorotica/pseuds/brorotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs Michael more than Michael needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guardian

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Warnings: Set during 5x13. Michael is using John's body as a vessel, so faint John/Dean if that's how you want to look at it. Some language.

Walking into a dark motel room at one o’clock in the morning is not one of Dean’s favourite things to do in any decade. It somehow seems worse in the 1970’s, where nothing is as bright as he’s accustomed to and he doesn’t even have Sam there to back him up. His room is pitch black, only the glow from the streetlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds giving the room any sort of light, and Dean fiddles with the light switch uncertainly for a moment before his hand goes to the knife stuck in the waist of his jeans. Fuck this shit. The 70’s aren’t exactly known for being the decade of super great wiring but all the other rooms in the motel are still lit up, and he’s done this enough times to know that his lights are out because someone has an ulterior motive and he’s caught in the middle.

He steps across the threshold and can immediately feel the electricity in the air, the hum in the room like there was a lightning storm while he was out, and since Dean’s fairly certain that isn’t the case, he wets his lips with his tongue and takes another step. “Okay, seriously. Lurking in the dark isn’t going to make me want to talk to you.”

“You’re talking now,” a voice says from across the room, and Dean glances towards it. “And as far as I can tell, I’m still lurking.”

“Demon?”

“Wrong way.”

“Fuck,” Dean hisses before he’s being shoved onto the ground, a pair of slim hands pinning him down. The man on top of him is smaller, slighter, but definitely masculine, with a sort of strength Dean’s come to expect from angels, and he swallows slightly, tilting his head to the side. “Michael.”

“Sorry for showing up unannounced but you know how it is. Things are a little hectic because of you.”

“I’ve said no so what the hell do you want?”

Michael goes quiet and Dean’s almost sure that he’s leaving before the lights flicker back on, Michael lets go, and Dean finds that the angel currently straddling his waist is wearing John’s body. It isn’t a surprise- not really, because he’s always known, kind of- but somehow having his dad sitting on top of him in a sleazy motel room isn’t really how Dean was planning on spending the night. “Can you get off?” Dean asks, staring up at Michael but not moving. If the angel wants him on the ground, he’ll stay on the goddamn ground.

“I came here to watch over you.”

“Oh, a guardian angel. Swell. I’ve already got one of those, though, so is there any way I can return you?”

Michael leans down and his lips are almost on Dean’s, his breath hot against Dean’s mouth. He’s so close that Dean can see the flecks of colour in Michael’s otherwise blue eyes, count the faint freckles speckling his skin. There’s a spark that turns into a wildfire, a flame that consumes Dean until Michael is all he can focus on, that faint flicker of Grace hidden away in those familiar eyes creeping into Dean, touching the parts of his soul that were constructed solely to house Michael. Dean stops breathing for a moment because he can feel it, he can feel the tendrils of Grace sliding into spaces that were previously empty, that can’t be filled by anyone but the angel with the too-blue eyes and the so-soft lips.

Michael is kissing him before Dean can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, his lips rough and warm against Dean’s mouth, and Dean takes a deep breath, tastes the air that Michael’s been breathing and draws him closer out of an unconscious desire to fill his broken soul with Michael’s Grace. Castiel was a temporary fix but Michael is permanent, Michael is a cure for the guilt and the loneliness and the self-loathing, and Dean has felt it. He’s felt Michael in an inexplicable way, something deep inside him awakening, yearning for Dean to say that one little word that will let Michael heal him.

Dean parts his lips, runs his tongue over Michael’s teeth and tongue and tugs him closer, pressing into him and feeling so sick and so close to the thing he needs. Michael slides his hands up the front of Dean’s t-shirt and his fingers are like fire touching Dean’s skin, burning him up inside, and Dean groans, tilts his head back and lets Michael do what he wants. His mind is foggy, his head swimming, and he knows that Michael’s Grace is spreading through him, lighting his veins up and leaving him paralyzed. The room feels charged, like the smallest spark will ignite whatever Michael is doing to him and leave Dean fried to a damn crisp.

By the time they finally pull away from one another, Dean is frozen, his body feeling as though there’s nothing inside it but the buzz of energy. Michael watches him quietly, almost sadly, and he leans down after a moment, teeth worrying Dean’s lower lip. “Say yes?”

“No,” Dean manages, and Michael looks at him for a few moments before swallowing.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, kissing along Dean’s jaw. Dean feels sick. “Dean… You were made for me. You’re my most prized possession.”

“I’m not yours.”

“You are. And you mean so much to me. You’re so important.” Michael sounds sincere, genuine, and Dean can’t look him in the eye. “I know you’re scared, but I’m taking care of you.”

“I’m a big boy. I think I can handle myself.”

Michael kisses him on the mouth, sends one last flare rocketing through Dean’s body, and then disappears, leaving Dean lying on the floor of the motel room. He feels like he’s fallen asleep, pins and needles beginning to spread across his body, and as he attempts to move in the wake of Michael’s disappearance, he accepts that he needs Michael more than Michael needs him.


End file.
